


Hospital walls

by pandafish



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-06 02:55:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10323998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandafish/pseuds/pandafish
Summary: After getting a phone-call Jon Bernthal life is turned up-side down. He is suddenly thrust upon the repsonsibility of taking care of a troublesome teenage daughter. Not only does he have to figure out how to deal with her, but she also have to adjust living with both Jon, Andrew Lincoln and Norman Reedus...and she is very good at breaking rules.





	1. Chapter 1

He was in the kitchen when they made the call. Doing the dishes and cursing silently over the fact that he had to quickly dry off his hands before picking the phone up. He didn’t recognize the number. Frowned, but took the call anyway.  
“Jon here”

“Jon Bernthal?” the voice asked for comfirmation.  
“That’s me” he answered, frowning again and holding the phone between ear and shoulder while he held up a hand to keep Venice from trying to snatch some bread left on the counter. The pitbull huffed and walked off, with a look of injustice in his dark, soft eyes.  
“This is Piedmont Atlanta Hospital. I am calling about Millicent George. Is it correct you have a daughter with her?”

Now actually worried for real, he gripped the phone with his hands and confirmed what the man asked. Catherine. His little Catherine. She must have grown a lot by now. “What happened?” The man picked up on his demanding tone and sighed in response.

“I am very sorry Mr Bernthal. But Millicent has passed away. You need to come down here and see your daughter”. 

Jon didn’t hear the last sentence. A weight had dropped into his stomach, like a stone swallowed whole, and he touched his throat with his right hand, having troubles breathing. He hadn’t seen her in a very long time, but dead? She couldn’t be. She was much too young, she was barely over 35. She wasn’t supposed to leave NOW. 

“Sir? I must have your answer on this” the man said carefully, not wanting to be inconsiderate but having to do his job and ask his questions. Jon was woken up from his temporary shock by Venice licking his hand, and shook his head to clear it before picking up the conversation.  
“Yes. I’m sorry. What was the last thing you said?”  
“We need you to come down here. You need to see your daughter. She needs family”

Family. But Jon wasn’t family. He didn’t count. Family saw their daughters. Catherine needed a father to pick her up, but he didn’t think he was it. He sighed, sank down and rested his weight on his thighs for a bit. Venice licked his arm and he patted the dog in return, glad he had some support in this.

“Andy. Can you drive me to the hospital?” He didn’t think he was going to be able to drive. 

-

The hospital walls were white. It was such a cliché thing to notice, but they really were white. White like bleach or starch, something strong that would burn your eyes if you got too close. White to make up for the constant presence of death, black as it was. Jon didn’t want to notice it – he felt like the way his head was spinning, all he would focus on was the end of the corridor while everything else just melted away around him. But they were taking up too much space in his mind and they were all he could think about. Until he reached the end of it.

Andy caught up with him when a nurse stopped them.  
“Mr Bernthal?”  
Yes yes yes, he was, why would they keep asking him that? It was like they had to constantly make him confirm his identity because they knew he might pretend to be someone else than Jon Bernthal this moment. That guy was having a shitty day. He would actually prefer to be someone else right now, anyone.

They asked him some more questions after that, and he did his best to answer them all. Yes, Catherine was his daughter. Yes, he was aware of the fact that he had the right to full custody over her. No, she didn’t live part time with him. Yes, I am a terrible father, he added in his head, gritting his teeth. After about ten more questions they told him to stay put, and walked away.

He turned to Andy. “I’m not sure how I’m gonna do this” he said, voice low and raspy. Andy took a steady hold of his shoulder.  
“You’re not alone in this Jon. Things will work out. They will” he told him, calm and slowly, like trying to sooth a bull ready to bolt any moment. 

They heard a door further down open. And then he saw her. She was held roughly in the arm by a male nurse, all but dragging her down the corridor. Her eyes spoke murder, red and with tears staining her hollow cheeks, dirt-brown hair falling in tresses around her face. It didn’t look like she’d washed it for weeks, and the rumpled state of her ripped jeans and black, too-big-for-her hoodie told him she’d slept in them. If she’d even slept at all. 

When they reached him and Andy she pulled her arm loose and fixed her eyes on the floor, refusing to look at anyone.  
“We think she’s in a bit of a shock” a kind nurse told him quietly. “It’s been a rough night”.  
It was around 7:30 am. He’d been up early to get a good run in before the rest of the day. Briefly he wondered how long Catherine had been here. 

But she kept refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Her whole body was tense and taut as a bowstring. Andy had got it wrong. If anything, she was the bull ready to bolt.

“Catherine? Your dad is here” the same nurse said, treading around the soft words. She got a side-ways sneer back. Not in the mood to talk. Not in the mood for anything, expect probably curl up beneath a table and make people leave her alone.

Jon tried saying her name but the words got stuck in his throat. She responded before him, unlikely as it was.  
“I want to go home”

The comment brought a concerned look from the nurse. She opened her mouth, unsure, and closed it again. No matter how long she’d worked there, she never quite got used to handling the relatives to someone recently deceased.  
“I…I’m very sorry Catherine, but that can’t happen. You need to be with your family now”. And with that the girl’s eyes brimmed with angry tears. How could she be considered old enough to see her mother’s corpse, but not allowed to stay alone in her own apartment?

“Cathy?” Jon spoke up, very quietly. He used the nick-name he’d seen Millicent write in the letters she’d sent him. He hoped it would make her maybe gain a little splinter of trust from her. It earned him a look. The dirty strings of hair covered most of her eyes, but he knew she studied him. 

When she didn’t respond the nurse turned to him and Andy. She talked to them about what was going to happen next, if he wanted to see Millicent, which papers he would have to sign when he’d recovered. He answered what he could and Andy helped him with the rest.

“He doesn’t even want me”

The voiced poisonous comment hit their conversation like an ice-cold brick. Surprised Jon turned to her. Her hoodie had slipped down half her shoulder and revealed nothing but bones and tightly stretched skin around it. She kept a look in her eyes which Jon could only describe as the saddest kind of hatred. Repeating herself, she ignored the hoodie and kept her hands clenched by her side.  
“He doesn’t want me. I’m not going with him”. Looking to the roof when tears once more welled up, the faintest sarcastic laughter slipped out of her raw throat. “It doesn’t matter for shit what your papers says, all you’re trying to do is force a kid on someone who doesn’t want one”

“That’s not true”

Jon found his voice at last. Almost pleading, but unable to show any form of deep emotion due to his normal behavior, let alone in the state he was in. But damn it if he didn’t try.  
“I…You need to come home with me. I know we haven’t…spent much time together, but you’re not old enough to deal with this on your own. Cathy…you need to come home”

One last look. Black as a hell-storm.  
"It's not my home"


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really short :/

She had been silent the entire ride home. Sniffling once in a while and dragging the frayed edge of her shirt beneath her nose. Jon looked back as often as he dared, making sure she was okay. She never looked back. Only kept her eyes fixated on the street outside, slowly coming alive with people daring to seek out another day. Their day would be one that most people would shy away from. Avoid if possible. 

Eventually all three had reached the apartment. The stairs echoed with empty air. Andy held the door for Catherine. And however much she kept her feelings pent down, she couldn’t help but let her eyes go wide with amazement over the size of the apartment.

It had a short hall that opened up to a large living room, directly connected to a kitchen scanning wide across the walls. To the right there was a bathroom, and after that followed a corridor leading to the bedrooms. There was four of them. Jon, Andrew and Norman had decided to rent this flat while the filming went on for the first and second season, but even with Jon’s character long dead, they still lived together. Sure, Jon went away for a few months sometimes while filming other stuff, but he came back for his down time. A month ago he had chosen to take a longer break, which ironically turned out for the best, now that he had an unexpected kid to raise. She would take the fourth bedroom.

At once both dogs were running over like their lives depended on getting to the hall as fast as their short legs would carry them. The pitbulls all but attacked Catherine, practically jumping on top of her to get themselves a cuddle.   
“Boss!” Jon boomed. God, this was not a good start. “Venice, get down you punk” he ordered, stepping in between ready to pull them off. To his surprise, Catherine reacted by actually sitting down.  
“It’s okay” she said, letting Boss lick her tear-rimmed cheek. “I’m used to dogs. I like them”. Her words were quiet, but for the first time calm. Jon tried to think back. Had Millicent gotten dogs at some point? He hoped she hadn’t. She was never much of a dog-person. There was a risk she would have forgotten them in case she had any. 

But the dogs settled down, and conversation was over. Awkwardly and really not knowing what to say, Jon simply took of his coat while the seventeen-year old bent down to take off her black boots. For the first time Jon realized they were broken. Duct tape was wrapped around the front of the left one, and the other had a loose sole. Both were half-covered in stale dirt. Something about that stabbed a little at his heart. 

Once she’d gotten them off, she took a small step inwards, not really sure how to continue. Andy was right behind her, carrying her backpack and carefully setting it down. Jon was glad he was there, even though he too treated her a bit like a frightened animal. 

“Are you hungry?” Jon asked, voice deep and not as soothing as he might wish it to be. All he earned himself was a look. Andy tried too. “There’s some left-overs from breakfast. I’ll make you a sandwich” he stated, clearly knowing better how to get a kid to eat. Another look. But he went into the kitchen anyway, and when Jon made a move to follow, she slowly picked up her backpack and followed them. 

The second stab at his heart was when his friend placed the plate in front of her, and she ate it as quickly as if she hadn’t gotten food in a week. When she was done she simply stared at the empty dish.

“I can show you your room” he offered.   
“My room”. It was a statement, but somehow she made it sound like a question, hollowed out like she was either too numb for the element of asking, or if she was just saying it too herself.  
“It’s a guestroom, but we can fix it up for you. Get like…a desk and stuff”. Oh holy mother of fuck. No, really; he could managed to have himself groped in front of a camera on a zombie-show, and pull himself through weeks of choreographed fighting, but he couldn’t talk to his own fucking kid. She was around 5’3 and yet she scared the crap out of him. 

It was when he opened the door to the room and she put her bag down again, that he realized she hadn’t brought a jacket. The black hoodie was all she had as a mean to warm her. Not being able to help it, he observed her while she slowly took a step forward into what was now her own space in the apartment. The brown, unwashed hair was uneven in some places, shorter next to her left ear and a badly cut in the back. The first impression was that she’d cut it herself. When she turned her head to look at the bed he saw metal pierced through her ear, several rings following the curve. The fact that he couldn’t remember if she’d had those rings last time he saw her made him furrow his eyebrows painfully. He shook it off.

“I was thinking we just do nothing today. You should…get some sleep. Maybe we can watch a movie or so later” he tried, wanting her to know it was okay to use this day to heal, even if it was only a little. Something deep inside him wanted to reach out as much as possible to get her to understand that she was safe here. They could work this situation out tomorrow, deal with getting her stuff.  
“When you’re ready you can come out. I’ll introduce you to Norman when he gets home, he lives here too…I know things might be a little messy here, but I want you to know that I want you to stay with me Cathy. I really do” he finished, founding himself staring at the side of her face. She stayed tense, not wanting to look back at him. He couldn’t tell if it was because she was still mad at him, or just uncomfortable about the whole thing. Another second passed. He let go of a deep breath, and thinking she’d probably not respond, he turned to give her some privacy.

Just when he was about to leave, he heard her speak up, quietly. 

“Cat. Call me Cat”

**Author's Note:**

> Very none-planned writing. If you'd like to read more, please tell me so I know if I'm gonna continue. Promised sexual content in a couple chapters forward


End file.
